What a delightful weekend I’m having. I walked into the living room yesterday afternoon to find a strange man in the midst of it. Thankfully he left quickly upon being disturbed - I wouldn’t have had a chance if he meant to do otherwise.
Sadly for him I do not think I was a good target unless you are after hundreds of books and aquariums – he did however kindly think to relieve me of my handbag. He left a motorised speedboat he had filched from elsewhere at my door in his haste to escape. Terrorised for so little. One does not expect when quietly working in the study metres from the balcony door on a sunny afternoon to be invaded and reminded of one’s helplessness.
I am terribly glad dog slept peacefully through the entire thing (amazing house guarding skills!). She would not have understood all people do not mean well.
I have been looking through the whimsical works of Fragonard, an immensely prolific Rococo artist, because I find I cannot work so well as usual. It is hard to be sad looking into his airy vision of the world…unless one begins to contemplate the fact many of his patrons and subjects were shortly to be beheaded in the revolution. Hm.
|Blind Man's Bluff, 1775-1780|
|Les Hasards heureux de l'escarpolette, 1767|
|The Reader c. 1770 - 1772.|
|Le Chat Angora, 1780|
Masterful rendering of the mirror ball. I wonder what it was actually for?